


They Warned Me About Instagram

by Hoppskibjack



Category: Bandom, Green Day, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Concerts, Consensual Kink, Dungeon, Flogging, Hand Jobs, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I say no sex but I mean no penetration, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of Brittney/Mike, No Sex, Orgasm Denial, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Poor Mike, Revolution Radio Era, Riding Crops, Social Media, confused feelings, it was supposed to be short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoppskibjack/pseuds/Hoppskibjack
Summary: A link on instagram leads Mike Dirnt to a video set in a dungeon starring two of his bandmates, one of which is Tré. It shouldn't be a big deal, but he can't get the thought of Tré Cool doing all that to HIM. It takes over every waking moment and others are starting to notice...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic doesn't get explicit until the last couple of chapters, but I always warn for the "worst". Everything is consensual and I hope fun.

The sweat dripped down his forehead, plastering hair to his skin. The crowd in front of them roared its approval as Mike watched his best friend Billie Joe walk to center stage with his acoustic guitar, strumming the last notes of the last song of the evening. Mike came up to stand on one side of him and moments later Tré came down from the drums risers and completed the trio. 

The sound hit them like a wall, something none of them had ever really gotten used to even as they approached the 30 year mark together. How could you get used to that many people suddenly seeing you as something more than human? The second encore was over and as they left the stage Mike knew that if they wanted they could easily play a third. The audience would always stay for more. Not tonight though, he was exhausted and from the look of it so was Billie, hell even Tré had started to slow down. His bass was handed off to his waiting tech, a bottle of water and a towel replacing it in his hands. Minimum chatter with security as the evening routine was completed and talk turned to after show activities. 

“I can’t go out yet guys. I really need to call home. Promised I would call Adie and say hi to Jakob. His birthday is tomorrow so he’s home for a couple days.” Billie replied after the question of post gig (soft) drinks was raised. 

Tré nodded his understanding, as did Mike and when Mike pled exhaustion Tré opted to retreat in the opposite direction after the Big Three. 

It seemed like only a matter of minutes and Mike was in his hotel room, flicking through channels and sipping what should have been coffee and was closer to hot bitter water. Given that he was tired, bored, and pissed off by the bad coffee his next step should have been to just go to sleep, but instead he pulled out his laptop and started a cursory glance of instagram. It was easy to forget about shitty coffee when he could read about some good in the world. He liked being able to comment on fanart and like comments. He skimmed the usual repetitive, uninteresting commentary, flicking through his account and then moving onto Billie’s and then Tré’s. He paused on a conversation that had started deep in the comments, now barely related to the photo Tré had posted earlier that day of them at the venue that started it. 

“Those pants look like the ones in the Sundae video.”

Mike read the comment a few times with a puzzled look on his face before he continued down the thread: 

“Omg, they are!!”

“dont talk bout that here. ffs”

“Wat?”

“Come to Brazil!”

Mike skimmed down, more intrigued now and waded through the chorus of questions. It was 90% questions about this supposed video with the remaining 10% being those who seemed to know and refusing to answer. He rubbed his eyes. Why was he even looking at this? He took a sip of his cooling coffee and winced. Right, this was his evening’s entertainment. 

It was almost an hour and a half later when Mike found a single shortened URL that alluded to the “Sundae Video” the cryptic description urging the recipient to keep it to themselves. It linked to a hosted dropbox video, owned by a username made up of random letters and numbers. This only added to the mystery of what it might contain. After this much searching the bassist was hoping to enjoy whatever the hell this video was. Mike poured himself a drink from the mini-bar, the contents of a tiny bottle without ice or mix. Once he settled back on the pillows, he pulled the laptop back onto his lap and pressed play. 

The video didn’t start well. The image began with a grainy picture and distorted sounds slowly clearing as time went on. The image quality was so poor at first that Mike almost closed the window straight away. It was only the amount of searching that kept him staring at the flickering box on the screen. It was dark, wherever this was set the only light came from dimmed mounted lights on the walls. There were no windows. While he had his speakers on low volume the repetitive thumping sound of something was distinct. 

Mike narrowed his eyes and took a sip of his drink. He turned up the volume a little more, glancing at the hotel door that he had bolted shut to make sure it was still locked. He felt silly, he was a grown man, but he could feel his heart beating faster. There were whispers from the person holding the camera, a deeper voice that seemed to be talking with someone else. 

The picture completely cleared and the figures clad mostly in darker clothes, black walls and strange objects became clear enough for Mike to realize what he was looking at. It was a dungeon. A tiny sliver of disappointment flowed through him. Is that all this the was? The band had gone to dungeons before, mostly for a laugh and to meet a woman who would be on the Warning album. They were fun, a great way to blow off steam and he was pretty sure Billie and Adie visited them occasionally. If this was a fan just capturing Tré in one, it really wasn’t worth the time he had spent to find the video. 

But it wasn’t just Tré. 

Mike stared, unblinking. The camera shifted over and the person holding the camera grew a bit more daring, enough to zoom in and stop talking over the video. The view showed the band’s drummer, the crop in his hand a blur as he gave short strokes to someone’s back and ass who was tied facing a large padded X. The figure was too tall to be Billie… Mike thought and leaned forward towards the screen as though that would help him see the other man more closely. 

On the video Tré gave one more lash and then tipped the crop over his shoulder. The bound man arching his back and threw back his head in response. The image of Tré with the crop over his shoulder combined with the bound man surprised Mike, it made his mouth dry and he quickly drained the alcohol in his glass to combat it. He exhaled a wavering breath at the raw burn. 

Hitting pause on the video Mike rubbed his eyes and grabbed another small bottle from the mini bar to pour into his glass. He jumped back on the bed and pulled the laptop back into his lap before resuming the video. Tré walked forward, unfastening the cuffs on the other man’s ankles and wrists. The camera focused on Tré as he helped the man turn so his back was on the cross. The shorter man embracing the object of his ministrations with a hand cupping the back of his head as he leaned forward to kiss him long and slow. When they parted something was audible on the video distantly, it sounded vaguely to Mike like murmured reassurance. 

The bassist took a sudden breath only realizing he had been holding his breath when his lungs started to scream for oxygen. He studied the video, straining to ID the other man that had all of Tré’s attention. He had never seen Tré so focused on someone like he was right now. 

The camera angle changed and suddenly all Mike could hear were the muffled whispers of the camera owner and a black screen. Mike assumed the worst, that the camera had been discovered. He cursed and waited impatiently as the picture returned. It finally focused on the two men who were chatting as Tré traced patterns on the shirtless man’s chest with a finger. The warmth of alcohol made Mike’s head spin pleasantly and he took another drink. If Mike focused on that moving digit he could almost feel a finger moving on his own chest. What would it feel like to be resting against that padded X with your back burning and being pressed against it? Mike’s experience was limited, he had only delivered, never received the business end of a flogger. He had never swung a crop. 

The man glanced towards the camera as he spoke to Tré and his facial features were distinct enough they made a stream of cold run down his spine. He swallowed and willed the little hairs that rose on his arms and the back of his neck to calm down. It was Jason Freese. Mike downed his drink with a wince. It couldn’t be.

On the video, Jason took a step away from the cross and knelt in front of Tré, clasping his hands behind him in a smooth and steady motion. His head tilted down to stare at the floor between them, all without so much as a nod from Tré. 

Tré tipped Jason’s head up and although their lips were moving Mike couldn’t hear what was being said and could only stare at the picture Jason and Tré made in the darkened room. Occasionally other people moved past, but both band members only seemed to see each other. He tried to ignore the warmth in his stomach from the alcohol and the buzzing in his head. While he was trying to ignore the feelings the images were sparking in him, his cock had other ideas and he could feel the stirrings of an erection. Tré’s hand went under his the other’s chin and tipped it up a little higher, Mike could see the tension leave Jason’s face as he looked at the drummer. It was like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The bassist ran a hand across his chin and down his jaw, trying to picture what he just saw happening to himself. His eyes darted back to the screen to see Tré saying something and Jason smiling as he reached towards the zipper of Tré’s pants. That’s when the video shook slightly and then went dark. 

When he realized the video had ended completely, he went back to the beginning, replaying the video several times and pausing it to study the men in the frozen picture. This wasn’t two guys just blowing off steam and fooling around, this had ritual and unspoken rules. The obvious bulge in Tré’s pants (indeed the same pants that brought him from Instagram) spoke part of the story, but when he studied the reassurance and kiss it was so tender and gentle. Mike licked his lips and poured another drink, hitting play again.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike woke to a pounding on the door and a matching pounding in his head. He shifted and looked down at the small empty liquor bottles littering the blanket he had slept on, his laptop half-closed and shoved precariously close to the edge of the bed. He smoothed a hand over his face wiping away the drool around his mouth and leaned his head back against the headboard. 

“HEY! YOU AWAKE?” Billie’s voice called on the other side of the heavy hotel door.

Mike groaned, glancing at the bedside clock and jolted to reality. Only half an hour until he had to be down in the lobby to leave. “Fuck!” Mike shouted before grabbing his head at the sound and carefully standing to open the door. 

Billie stood there grinning, but the grin started to falter at the sight of Mike, still in sweatpants and cradling his head. “You okay, Mike? Did you just wake up?” 

The bassist sighed and nodded. His hand rubbing his temple and then rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. “Stayed up too late.” His throat felt like a desert and his voice crackled. He stepped aside in a silent invitation and Billie came in, surveying the room as Mike gently shut the door. He crossed to the bathroom and started running water in the sink. 

“Uhhh, had a little solo party last night?” Billie asked, turning towards the bathroom as he held up a small vodka bottle, before tossing it in the garbage with a shake of his head. “You should have come down to the lounge, didn’t you get my texts? Almost everyone was there and we had it all to ourselves. It was a lot cheaper than the mini-bar.” Billie smiled, “Jason lost some bet or something and ended up waiting on Tré hand and foot. It was hilarious.”

Mike paused with water dripping off his face, thankful Billie couldn’t see his expression. “Oh yeah? What was the bet?” He grabbed the hand towel by the sink and dried his face, straightening to obtain and swallow a couple Tylenol with a mouthful of water. He felt a little more human after that and less nauseous as he turned back towards the bedroom.

Billie looked up from packing clothes in one of Mike’s suitcases and paused for a moment to think before answering, “No idea. Didn’t ask, y’know? It was hilarious though.” 

“I bet.” 

Mike’s tone concerned Billie as he was zipping up the suitcase he had been packing and it showed on his face. “I wasn’t drinking if you’re wondering. The exhaustion probably made it way funnier,” Billie admitted with a shrug tossing a shirt that wouldn’t fit to Mike to put away. “Adie and Jakob send their love.” 

Mike didn’t say anything at first, but nodded at the family news focusing on picking up a few things and stashing them away. “Sorry Bill, this hangover is murder. I’m sure it was fun, sorry I missed it.” 

“S’ok,” came the swift reply and Mike saw a big grin follow even before Billie looked up from where his focus had been on the floor. He kicked a Kleenex away from the bed with one of his Converse covered feet and towards Mike with a raised eyebrow. Then he dug out a second and third. “A really good time?” 

“Shut up.” Mike laughed. “A man has needs.” 

Billie nodded and then rolled his eyes as he tossed a sweater at Mike’s head, “Uh huh. Well, so do bands and we need our bass player, don’t go straining your wrists. Come on, everyone’s waiting.”

As Mike followed Billie out of the room he glanced back at the bed. The image of Tré embracing a bound Freese swam in his mind, changing to an image of Freese looking up from where he knelt on the floor. Briefly he saw himself in that situation, he could almost feel the hard floor under his knees and the shorter man looming above him. Then Billie called to him. He was thankful for the duffel bag that covered his groin as they walked the hotel halls to join up with the rest of band and crew in the lobby. 

A long bus ride passed and dinner time came and the six musicians holed themselves up in the private room of an italian restaurant only an hour or so away from the venue. Despite their late start, mostly thanks to Mike, the drivers had made excellent time and everyone was in good spirits as they sat down to break bread together and talk about anything, but the upcoming show. Mike had, consciously or not sat in a spot as far away from Jason and Tré as possible at the other end of the table between Jason White and Jeff Matika earning a raised eyebrow from Billie at the opposite end. 

“You feeling OK Mike?” Jason White asked from his left and Mike nodded quickly. He had kept relatively quiet since they got to the restaurant, opting to pick at his food and listen to the banter amongst his other bandmates rather than participate. This had apparently attracted some attention. 

“Still tired, but I’ll be fine by tonight. You know how hangovers are; easy come and easy go...” he waved a hand and Jason agreed with a knowing smile. 

“Some food’ll help,” the guitarist said kindly and Mike managed another nod and then a chuckle. “Carbs, Musician’s little helper.” 

This earned him a laugh from White and a smirk from Jeff on the other side of him, his head down doing what Mike assumed was texting. 

A laugh made Mike look up from his pasta and across the table to see a red faced Jason Freese coughing into his napkin. Mike assumed he had missed a joke because Billie and Tré were both laughing at whatever had just happened. Tré clapped the other man on the back as the coughing stopped and then leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Freese’s face still blushed but a smile curled up on his lips and he glanced sideways at the drummer. 

His eyes widened and then he dropped his head. That was the same look they had shared in the video! Mike recalled, taking a bite of food and trying not to stare. Were they secretly some sort of kinky couple? Was he that oblivious before that he didn’t see it before? He remembered Jason’s hands moving towards the closure of Tré’s pants and wondered what had happened after the video ended. Was it as obvious as he imagined? Had he done it there, just sucked him off in the dungeon with strangers walking around? 

“Isn’t that right Mike?”

Mike’s eyes opened (when the hell did they close?) and his focus snapped to Tré. “What?” He took another bite of his bread in hopes of covering his drifting mind. 

Tré sighed a long drawn out sigh, Mike had clearly deeply inconvenienced him. “The Hemlich, it can break ribs even if you do it right, you told me that.”

What in the hell had he missed? “Yeah,” he said brushing crumbs off his fingers, “so can CPR.”

“See?” Tré gloated to Freese who rolled his eyes in response. Mike narrowed his eyes at the two men, he could have sworn that they had pushed their chairs closer together. “Mike knows.” Tré continued, bringing his attention back. “Just call him Dr. Dirnt. The lesser known cousin to Dr. Pepper.” 

Billie groaned in response to the joke, sparking the table into laughter. “Stick to drumming Tré, leave the jokes to Mike he’s better equipped.” 

The inevitable “equipped” jokes flew fast and Mike participated as much as he could, throwing himself into the conversation in hopes of distracting himself from the repeating images of the video from the night before. Throughout the back and forth the bassist reminded himself not to stare, to just chill out. 

The servers cleared the plates, bringing the discussion down to a more subtle tone and then brought out dessert and thankfully coffee. Compared to the hot brown water he had drank in the hotel, the liquid in his mug was ambrosia. He hummed his approval with the first sip and could feel Billie smiling at him across the table. He smiled back, letting out a sigh as the warm drink brought life back to his cells. Mike was starting to feel human again and took a moment to survey the other occupants of the table as they chatted in little groups. 

“So I heard someone lost a bet last night,” Mike said to White as they were sipping their coffees. 

“Yeah, Jase did. He spent the rest of the evening as Tré’s servant, bringing him drinks and snacks.” 

Mike nodded, swallowing a mouthful of coffee that otherwise threatened to spray itself across Jason’s face. “What was the bet?” 

“I don’t know, neither of them would say. Jeff and I just assume it was Tré’s doing.” 

“I heard my name.” Tré stated with a grin from across the table, now staring at Mike and Jason. “I hope you’re saying good things…” 

White laughed and responded before Mike could say anything. “Mike was asking about the bet last night.” 

The tips of Jason’s ears coloured slightly, more evident by the tan coloured hat he was wearing, but he stayed silent. It was Tré who spoke up on his behalf. 

“It was a private bet.” Tré said, far more seriously than Mike was expecting. “His loss and my gain.” Then Tré turned towards Mike and the way he looked at him made it feel like someone was pouring ice water down his back, again. “What did you get up to? Billie said there was a one man party?” 

Mike took a second that felt like an eternity to answer. He debated his choices: He could just say what had happened. He could just say that he found a video of Jason and Tré playing in a dungeon together that someone had filmed. That he had cleaned out the mini-bar in his room while he was watching the video and then jerked off to the thought of him being in Jason’s position, on his knees in front of Tré… multiple times. Or he could lie. “Nothing special. I had a few drinks and surfed the web for a bit.” That was a half truth. 

“So, drunk porn?” 

Billie laughed at Tré’s statement and nodded on Mike’s behalf. Some friend, spilling all his secrets. He couldn’t actually be mad though, Billie didn’t know the full story. 

“Yes, drunk porn,” Mike dryly quipped. “Did you know they had porn on the internet? I had no idea, had to check it out.” 

Everyone at the table took that opportunity to act amazed, some shaking their head in mock disbelief. Billie scoffed and when the table had gone quiet added, “did you know,” he enunciated the three words crisply, “there’s a porn star that looks like me. Someone sent me the link on twitter.” 

“And then you sent it to Adie didn’t you?” Mike asked and Billie’s smile lit his face up. Between his retreating hangover and the receding weird feelings, he was starting to feel more like himself. 

“He’s a gay porn star Mike! Of course I sent it to Adie. I kept a copy for myself and sent one to her.” Billie confirmed and the table laughed again.

Mike had a little break from his obsessing over the video as soon as he stepped on stage. All his attention was devoted to the show and he was able to push aside whatever these feelings were in order to put on a show just as spectacular as always. It was when he grabbed a bottle of water afterwards and Freese pushed past him to get to where his equipment was being stored that he started to remember the shape of Jason on his knees in the dark room. He thought of the noises of the room and the silent eye contact between Jason and Tré. He was so in his head and deep in thought that it took Billie tapping on his arm after calling his name twice before he was roused. He looked over to see the singer staring at him, his eyebrows were down and his head was tilted slightly. 

“What’s up?” Mike asked his voice scaling up slightly. He was aiming to sound casual, or at least trying to sound casual which wasn’t easy when you kept seeing two of your bandmates engaged in kinky foreplay. He was a horrible actor and they both knew it, he just hoped that Billie wouldn’t bring him up on it. 

Billie didn’t say anything right away, just kept staring at his bass player. Both glanced over as Tré made his way past laughing about something with his drum tech. When he saw Mike and Billie however, he patted his companion on the shoulder and nodded as he continued on and Tré then doubled back to join Mike and Billie. 

Mike could feel Billie watching him as Tré came to stand between the two. He glanced at Tré and coughed to cover the wince he made when he felt a clench in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? He had a deep and persistent curiosity tugging at the back of his mind that centered around what it might feel like to be in Jason’s position in that video. This hadn’t happened before, even when they had visited a dungeon tried out the different implements on each other. It had just been a fun time that left Billie with a bruise on his ass and Tré with sore knuckles. So what was different? The silence was loud and Mike wasn’t sure what to say. Awkwardness between bandmates was weird and he let a small smile slip onto his lips in hopes of making it less awkward. Tré blinked at Mike with a raised eyebrow.

The smile just made it more awkward.

When Mike didn’t flinch or move when Tré came over, Billie’s gaze slipped back to the drummer and then back to the bassist. 

“What?” Tré asked, eyes big and confusion painted across his face.”Why are you both being so quiet? Who died?” 

Billie narrowed his eyes at the still silent Mike and Mike prayed that Billie would let it drop. This was nothing, he said silently to himself, it’ll pass. Please Billie. The singer’s returning look spoke volumes and he turned back to Tré with a chuckle. “Mike’s losing his voice and is being a big baby about it.” He gave the taller man a sympathetic smile, before turning back to Tré. “Where are you off to?” 

“Oh,” Tré said, sounding surprised Billie was asking. “Jeff said he knows of a place nearby where you can throw axes and reserved some time for us. I’ve always wanted to throw axes indoors.” The word indoors was stressed slightly and Billie’s eyes widened in response. “Did you want to come? Sure there’s room.” 

Billie shook his head at Tré’s offer and Mike copied the action. “Thanks, but no thanks, Tré. I can see the press now, ‘Green Day Singer throws axes at unsuspecting fans! Are drugs to blame?’” All three men chuckled. “No one will think twice about you throwing axes, they practically expect it. Go have fun!”

“That’s my middle name,” he said with a wide grin as he clapped Billie on the shoulder. “See ya later, don’t wait up!” Tré called as he walked away after he wiggled his eyebrows. He added then as almost an afterthought, “feel better Mikey!” 

Mike smiled and then looked at Billie and he felt the smile fall a little at the shorter man’s expression of disapproval. 

Billie checked his watch and then gestured towards the front door where security was waiting. “You owe me a Coke Zero and an explanation.”


	3. Chapter 3

Billie pushed the laptop away, then looked at Mike and blew out a breath. “I knew Tré was kinky, but I didn’t know Jason was… can’t say I’m that surprised though, he tours with us.” He glanced back at the laptop where the still image of Tré holding Jason was frozen on screen. “This is what’s been bothering you?” 

Mike couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed and a little bit conflicted. That wasn’t the full story.. “Uh, well not that really…” He looked away and then back at the singer, his best friend that he had told almost everything to since they were kids. This wasn’t completely new, they had both done kinky shit, not to this extent, but they’d tied each other up for fun and had people spank them. No, this was different. This was the fact that since he saw the damn video he couldn’t get the image of Tré and that damn crop out of his mind. He didn’t see happy, eccentric, weird Tré anymore; all he saw was serious and dammit hot, Tré from this video. He actually felt jealous when he put his attention towards Jason. Billie was staring, probably wondering why Mike had gone quiet. “It’s more than that.” Mike tried his best to put his thoughts to words and recounted that evening he had found the video while Billie patiently listened. He could always count on his best friend to listen to his problems. 

“Maybe you should just tell Tré you found the video.” Billie offered helpfully with a shrug after Mike spilled out the thoughts rolling around in his head. “If you want him to jump you, it’s Tré, you just have to ask. Kinky shit or not he’s never been secretive with us about having fun. I’m sure that’s all it is with Jason.” 

“No, it’s not that I want him to do that to ME,” Mike emphasized and then emphasized again with a “no, really!” when Billie’s raised eyebrows questioned him. 

“Bullshit,” Billie said putting a hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “You want him to do to you what he did to Jason, maybe even play-by-play” Then he waggled a finger when Mike tried to protest. “Listen to me Michael.” Billie’s face grew serious. “This is going to get in the way of the band, if you freeze up,” he paused and winced, “sorry, if you clam up on stage because of all this we’re in trouble.” 

“The shows have been fine! I’m fine!” 

“For now,” Billie continued, “but for how long? Either you get over this by sheer willpower alone or you deal with it face to face. I recommend the latter,” a smile and then, “it’ll be way more fun.”

Mike put his head in his hands and groaned. The worst part was he had been telling himself that this would pass, that it was just one night brought on by alcohol drenched jacking off that formed this obsession. It wasn’t getting easier though, the dreams were more intense and the thought of his stubbornness hurting the band wasn’t acceptable. “When we get back to Oakland I’ll say something, there’s no point trying to work this out on tour.” He looked up from his hands and expected to see Billie nodding in agreement. Instead his friends expression confused him, “what?” 

“You can’t wait three months to deal with this. We’ll be in New York in a couple of days, talk to him then or before and go hit a dungeon or whatever you need to do.”

“Billie, don’t be ridiculous. I can’t go to a dungeon in New York and risk someone videotaping ME in Jason’s position. Fuck that.” 

“Then go to a private one, I’m sure our dear drummer has connections. In fact I know first hand that he does.” The corner of BIllie’s lips lifted into a smirk and it broadened when a look of surprise and disbelief crossed Mike’s. “He set up me and Adrienne for our anniversary. A very sweet, if uncomfortable present for me. She had fun.” He laughed, “I’m surprised you didn’t know!” 

Mike shook his head and then laughed, feeling a bit of tension ease out of him for the first time since he had seen the video. “You think you know a guy…” Mike mumbled good-naturedly. “Then again, you do slap your own ass a lot on stage.”

Billie laughed and nodded his agreement and then turned serious with a soft smile still on his face. “Talk to him Mike, or at least drop some hints so he doesn’t think you hate him or Jason all of a sudden.You know he’s just a teddy bear wrapped in pure insanity.” Billie wrapped an arm around his bassist and squeezed. “You’ll feel a lot better.” 

“I already do, a little.” Mike confessed and wrapped Billie up in a full hug. “You’re too fucking good at this, you know that right?” He spoke into the side of Billie’s neck, something that he had done so many times on stage, both drunk and sober, just so that Billie could hear him among the roar of the audience. Sometimes he did it just to get that closeness between them. 

“Just returning the favour man, I don’t like seeing you hurting.” He didn’t need to mention rehab or the calls and PR work that Mike had done for him. That was something they just knew and didn’t talk about. Mike had always been there. “Love you Mike.” Billie’s voice was soft and Mike closed his eyes for a second to just enjoy the hug.

“Love you too.” He murmured and he felt a little better. What they had was so beyond romantic or sexual love, he could only take comfort from it. His head was a little clearer. He didn’t like the idea of what he had to do, but he’d do it if it helped.


	4. Chapter 4

Another breakfast in a nameless city gathered around a table in a private room enjoying typical breakfast fare and remarkably good coffee. Mike sat next to Billie, his legs stretched out under the table lost in the bowl of cereal he was eating as he read from an iPad next to the bowl. Billie was emailing Joey over some recent SWMRS news that had come down the musical grapevine and the rest of the band were either quietly eating nearby or still enjoying the morning in their room.

“Hey Tré?” Billie asked and Mike told himself not to look up. He hadn’t even known Tré was at the table, he must have joined after Mike stuck his nose in a book. 

“Yeah?” Tré’s voice was clear and remarkably awake for the early hour. 

“That anniversary present you set up for Adrienne and I, does that place still exist?” 

I hate you Billie Joe Armstrong. I hate everything about you. Mike silently said, taking a drink of his coffee to mask the need to look up and study the two men speaking. I take it all back.

“Yeah, why? Enjoyed it that much?” Tré was grinning, Mike could hear it and he wondered what the hell Billie was playing at. 

Mike could see Billie give a little shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Less for me. Didn’t you say you wanted to try it out yourself? That they had things you hadn’t tried before?” This venue we’re going to in New York is pretty close to that place.” This time Mike saw Billie glance over at him and he switched off his book and finished his cereal. 

Tré gave a little no-big-deal shrug. “Yeah. If I had someone to try it out with me,” he raised his eyebrows at the singer and popped a piece of bagel into his mouth before smiling. “Offering?” 

The dark haired man snorted and shook his head. “Not me,” Billie began and Mike set down his coffee mug interrupting him with a glance. 

“What are you guys talking about?” The bassist glanced from drummer to frontman and back again, glad to see Billie’s somewhat apologetic smile and Tré’s deadpan expression. 

Tré stood and scooted down the table so he was next to Billie and Mike and wouldn’t have to yell. Tré might occasionally be loud about subjects he shouldn’t, so Mike was relieved that he wasn’t going to be that way about this subject. He didn’t know that Mike knew exactly what they were talking about, he just wasn’t going to out Billie and his wife and their activities. 

“There’s a private dungeon I have connections to, Fat Mike introduced me, and I set Billie and Adie up for an anniversary present. Full reign of the place, lots of toys, some help with learning how to do what, with what and where.” Tré was making eye contact with Mike, gesturing occasionally and Mike found himself needing all his energy to concentrate on not reacting or under reacting. 

“Oh, and you wanna go and don’t have anyone, to what, whip you and beat you around and shit?” Mike was a horrible actor, but he was pleased when he saw Billie smiling a little knowingly and Tré waggled his head. “No, other way around. If I needed someone to beat me I’d probably ask you Mike.” 

Mike bit his tongue. Then he took another drink of the almost cold coffee to cover his wince. That hurt for more than one reason. Was it really so hard to believe that he might want to be on the other side? Just because he was tall and never showed any indication of wanting to be submissive. He knew being a switch was an option, why would someone take away that opportunity for him? A guy was allowed to explore his options even if he found out afterwards that it wasn’t his thing. Right? That thought brought him a little comfort, because maybe he wouldn’t enjoy it and then he would know it was just a one time thing.

“One of the Big Three?” Billie asked, and Mike was thankful he was keeping up appearances. “Are any of them into that kind of thing? Might be a fun night out. Team building…” He smirked at the last suggestion.

This time Tré did laugh. Glancing over at the bassist who had grown quiet, he pushed the carafe of coffee closer to Mike so he could refill his cup. He did and then returned the kindness as he gestured with it towards a mug next to Tré. It felt way too natural to ask, but that was just him being polite right? Still when Tré saw the motion he smiled and pushed the cup closer and thanked him when he finished filling it. It made Mike a little warmer inside. “If anyone was interested it might be Freese,” Tré continued, “and he’s going to be away for a bit after the shows visiting friends. I’ll just have to survive on porn.” He said the last part almost wistfully as though it would be such a hardship. 

Mike felt a prime opportunity slipping away. Suggesting this again later on would be awkward and they may not even have a chance if things got busy or anything got postponed because of the show. Now or never Dirnt.

“Well if it might otherwise kill you, I wouldn’t mind giving it a try.” The words were out of Mike’s mouth before he had a chance to go over them again. He had attempted to shrug it off with a little bit of humour and a chuckle and was starting to regret it, then he saw the twinkle in Tré’s eye and that brought him back to reality enough to continue. “I wasn’t a huge fan of hitting people when we went before, maybe I’d enjoy the other side better.” Billie had a very slight smile on his face and Tré went from surprised to pleased quite quickly. 

“Sure, if you want. I’m surprised, but that’s rad. Cool. I’ll set something up for Friday?” 

“Friday’s good,” Mike said amiably, “after the show.” He made a point of not looking at Billie who, he didn’t doubt was at this moment grinning like a Cheshire Cat. That meant instead he did see Tré’s smile. It wasn’t the slow, easy smile he saw aimed at Jason on the video or the smile he armed himself when camera were around, but a content and happy smile that was edged with something that made Mike a tiny bit uneasy. So much in a look that only came to Mike after years of spending all his time with his two band mates. With things arranged and Billie posing a question to Tré about a venue they would be performing in, Mike turned back to his iPad, closing the cover and grabbing it and the hat he had worn down to the cafe. He gave a nod to them both and headed upstairs trying to not think about Friday.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike woke drenched in sweat, his heart pounding and his head swimming with the last vestiges of a dream he had woken from.

He sat up in bed and threw the damp covers to the side focusing on trying to get his ragged, heavy breathing under control. Another sharp pain and his hands flew to his calf, massaging the aching muscle that had woken him and flexing his foot in a desperate attempt to chase the cramp out. He climbed out of bed, pacing the floor next to it and limping as each step sent a pulse of pain up his long leg. Walking helped rather quickly, but even as the pain began to lessen, the darkness of the room seemed to press on him, reminding him of the darkness in his dream, drawing him back into his thoughts. He felt like he really wanted to remember the dream, it no doubt related to the adventure he agreed to have Friday with Tré. 

He tried to piece the few things he remembered back together. Had he been in a dark room? No, he had been wearing a blindfold against the dim lights in the barely lit room. He couldn’t remember much more except another person, probably Tré, and feelings of want and need. Strong feelings, he corrected himself, which were in the forefront of his mind. He palmed himself through the damp sweatpants he was wearing, irritated to find he was hard. He shoved it aside along with everything else as he exhaled, the cramp finally seemed to disappear. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and ruffled his hair with his fingers, then looked at the time. The clock on the small bedside table said 3:00am in its bright, LED font and stifling a yawn, Mike forced himself to wipe off what sweat he could with the top sheet and choose the responsible route and go back to sleep. 

He lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore his body’s desire to do something about the effect the dream (that he could now barely remember) had on him. this would all be over in less than twenty four hours. He closed his eyes, covering himself with the duvet and tried again to get back to sleep.

* * *

“I think we should switch up Youngblood and Bouncing Off the Walls,” Billie said scribbling on a set list and pointing at each song as he said it’s name. Mike nodded and so did Tré as they sat on either side of the singer. “What about the audience?” 

“We can bring up a kid for Knowledge and Longview?” Tré suggested. 

“One for Knowledge on guitar,” Mike offered, “and two for Longview. One singing and one on bass. Or three if we bring up a kid just for guitar.” 

Billie shook his head, “the person who plays guitar can sing, too. Unless you want them on drums Tré, then you and Mike can step aside and practice for your date.” 

He was grinning, an easy smile and Mike wanted to hate him for the joke. Instead he laughed, shaking his head and pushing down the feelings that bubbled in his stomach. He formed a few half-hearted comebacks, but they all fell flat in his mouth. 

Tré giggled and sidled a little closer to the singer, “are you jealous Billie?” Mike saw Tré glance over and then he nuzzled a little closer. “Sure, you don’t want to come along? I’m not Adie, but I can show you a good time,” Tré pitched his voice up and batted his eyes. Groping the other man’s shoulders and biceps he wrapped an arm around him, pushing his chair as close as he could making Billie flush slightly. 

“I don’t fall for that on stage and I won’t now,” Billie said with a squeaky voice and then he laughed as he ducked out of Tré’s embrace. “Save all that charisma for the show, oh and for Mr. Dirnt.” He winked at Mike who rolled his eyes in return. 

“Are we gonna do a show or what?” Mike said with a put on gruff voice, pretending to be exasperated and earning a cheer from Billie and a paper ball to the head from Tré. He felt excited and nervous about the show like he always did, which drowned out the nervousness he was having about the encounter. As long as it stayed way.


	6. Chapter 6

“Billie, I feel like a fucking teenager asking this,” Mike said, as he stood in front of a mirror and with his voice saturated with exasperation. “But what do you wear to a place like this?” He turned away from the mirror, his skin still vibrating from the show and looked at his best friend who was sitting on the hotel bed calmly watching him freak out. 

“What you normally would wear, whatever you want.” Billie had a smile on his face that gave Mike’s currently twitchy temperament the urge to smack him. The bassist was going to say something, to argue, but Billie interrupted before he started trying to assure him. “Chill out Mike. Listen, it’s private, there might be one other person there and that’s it. Likely, it’ll just be you and Tré, since he knows what he’s doing.”

“Fuck.” The word came out sharp, but not too loud, it worked to release a little of the tension throbbing in Mike’s mind. 

Billie tilted his head slightly. “Why are you so worked up about this anyway? It’s Tré,” he stressed the other man’s name, “you’ve known him for how long? How many decades? You’ve seen each other naked, you’ve kissed and there was that time in the sleeping bag in San Diego. And this was your idea dude, you can bow out if you’re that worried.”

Mike had crossed his arms across his chest, comforting his nervous and slightly pissed off attitude. Even if he was only pissed off at himself. “Maybe because it’s new? Maybe because it’s so hyped up in my head that... I don’t know man, I want to go. It’s my brain that’s the one…”

“Cockblocking you.” Billie finished with a grin and Mike had to laugh, he couldn’t help himself. “You might not even get off, I hope you realize that.” Billie stated. The shorter man was smirking now, that little reserved smile he had when he knew you didn’t know whatever he was going to tell you next. “Adie and I were there for a weekend and I came once, before we went.” His smile broadened a little at Mike’s disappearing smile from his dropped bombshell. “I wanted to though, so many times.” He straightened a little, “she could be tougher than Tré though.”

“Yeah, probably is.” Mike agreed. The image of himself he had concocted, on his knees in front of Tré replacing Jason, appeared in his mind unbidden for the hundredth time that day. “Hopefully.” 

There was silence between them for a few moments as Billie examined a pamphlet near the bed and Mike examined his fingernails, then Billie piped up. “I’m sorry, I’m guess I’m not always reassuring.”

“You really aren’t,” Mike said with a small smile and after a pause added, “Thanks for trying though.” 

“Anytime. Listen, you’ll be fine,” Billie repeated, “and it’ll be way hotter than just watching it and jacking off.” Mike groaned in frustration at a shirt that just didn’t work and his friend gave a little shrug. “Hey, what if I picked out what you wear? You could start taking directions before your date.”

The confused look Mike gave him was met with a little hope and an expression of good intentions so he took a breath and relented a little. “I guess… It would save me trying to figure it out. No freaky shit though, please. Tré will probably have that covered.”

Billie was already digging in a suitcase. “Well, freaky for you is wearing long sleeves, but I’ll go easy on you.”

“Small mercies.” Mike said flatly. He had to admit he was a little relieved though, even if he didn’t sound it. This was such a strange circumstance that he didn’t have anything to compare it to. He wasn’t submissive, not naturally anyway, except for those times with Britt, but Tré exuded something he liked, no, that he wanted and needed. If doing this helped him move on from what he had seen that night then it would be worth it. 

Hell, he reflected, he may really enjoy it and it would be something he could further look into with Brittney. She had been so supportive about the whole thing when he called her, shrugging off his apologies and explanations with a reminder to him that it was Tré, not a groupie he had picked up on the road. She had said she trusted both of them and some of his guilt had just melted away. The biggest surprise came when she admitted she found the whole idea kinda hot and with a giggle said she was tempted to ask Tré to film it. The Skype call had changed directions then and the only guilt he felt was not being able to touch her when he finally came that night listening to her describe what she was going to do to him at the end of the tour. 

“How about this?” 

Billie voice broke Mike out of his thoughts and he walked over to the edge of the bed where Billie had laid out snug black jeans, a leather belt and a sleeveless dark gray buttoned shirt over a white tank top bearing the logo of a lesser known Oakland band they had toured with many years ago. The whole outfit was understated, very much his style, but more importantly it was comfortable. It was very similar to what he wore on stage if he was honest which meant he wouldn’t overheat easily in it. “Looks good,” Mike admitted with a nod and without any fanfare started pulling on the garments. 

“Have you mentioned the video to Tré yet?” Billie asked, amused at how quickly Mike glanced up in response to the question. “See if he wants to recreate it.”

“No, we haven’t discussed anything.” His tone was set to just before warning and Billie seemed to realize that and dropped the subject, choosing to talk about the tour and the various minutiae that bands had to address during them. 

The bassist felt awful. Why was he snapping at his best friend who was only trying to help? Why did he feel anxious and worried about something he had been looking forward to? He swallowed the lump in his throat and swallowed a mouthful of water from the bottle next to the bed. “Do you,” he started and then exhaled a puff of air in a sigh and started again, “do you think I should bring it up, Bill?”

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you had forgotten who Tré Cool is. It’s not like you’re going to embarrass him. Although he may embarrass you... Maybe you should call it off?” 

Call it off? His stomach tightened. Mike found himself shaking his head without realizing it. “You’re right, completely fucking right. I’m being a fucking idiot about this. I mean, it’s just for fun, supposed to be between two best friends.” He was saying the words and starting to believe it. The bastard had even resorted to using reverse psychology on him and it was working. Billie was completely right, this was Tré and while he often showed off he also didn’t portray himself as anything he wasn’t. He was genuine, one of things Mike admired about the shorter man. He wouldn’t pull any punches. Mike shouldn’t either. He nodded and with a genuine smile of thanks pulled Billie into a hug, the second one it seemed in as many hours.


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken time, but for the most part Mike was getting used to being driven around when they were on tour. It wasn’t practical or safe (in the insurers eyes) to have them driving themselves all over in strange cities when they had a schedule to meet. With a day off tomorrow and the nature of where they were going Mike had assumed this would be a good time when they could insist on doing their own driving. Tré had felt differently, saying they would want a driver for the return trip and rather than argue Mike had relented and let him win. The irony of letting Tré win wasn’t lost on the bands bassist or their drummer. 

“Anything I should know?” Tré asked quite suddenly of the very quiet bandmate next to him in the back of the car. They were still a distance away and conversation had naturally trickled to companionable silence during the drive. Mike made a questioning noise and cocked an eyebrow. “Love for tentacle porn, fear of leather?” Tré paused for a beat and then smiled a little wider, “fetish for leather?” Like a weird sitcom coincidence both men happened to glance down together to look at the leather pants Tré was wearing and Mike laughed, the tension he hadn’t realized existed suddenly severed.

“Leather pants are fine,” Mike answered with a smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. “Have to decline the tentacles, doctor says tentacles and touring aren’t good for my health.” His voice was normal, but his mouth felt dry. He tried to wish away the awkward nervousness he felt and replace it with anticipation and interest. The resulting emotional mess just made him feel a little irritated. Couldn’t he just come out and say it? Just spill his guts about the video and hope he could make enough sense to keep himself together? 

Tré was watching him, he could feel him watching him even if the other man’s eyes were soft and not the hard stare he used for the camera. 

“Are you going to stay in here the whole night, Mike?” 

His name and two taps to his temple brought him around and he blinked. Then he shook his head. It felt like the words would never come, but when they did it was a relief that washed through him. “There’s something you gotta know Tré.” That was a start, he had cut open the festering wound to drain it. “I know about you and Jason, there’s a video taken in some dungeon.” 

The drummer was nodding, but didn’t speak which encouraged Mike to continue. 

“Someone recorded it, put it up on a dropbox and fans were talking about it on instagram. I --” get it together Mike, he mentally chided himself. Get to the important part. “I watched it. Multiple times, and I can’t get it out of my head.” The last part was almost blurted out, but Mike managed to catch himself. He watched Tré for signs of discomfort and was slightly surprised when all he saw was a smile and a bit of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Was it hot?” Tré asked even as he was pulling out his phone, “do you have the link?” Mike nodded, he wasn’t sure which question he was answering and texted him the link, watching as Tré pulled it up on his phone and hit play on the shaky video. He didn’t say anything as he watched, not even to make silly comments and Mike felt himself growing nervous again. Long minutes passed as Tré stared at the screen with the audio turned way down, the only sound in the car the muffled sounds from the video and the road outside. The drummer made a little ‘hmm’ sound at what Mike assumed was when the video went dark, the camera person hiding his equipment from whomever was around, but perked back up when it resumed. 

It ended and Tré slipped his phone back into his pocket with a nod. He said nothing for a few minutes and Mike felt himself looking away and out the tinted windows at the city rushing past just to do something. The cards were finally on the table and it felt good, he felt some relief, but he wanted Tré to say something in response. Even a joke would sit better than the silence that existed in the car between the two men currently. As moments passed Mike felt his anxiety trickling through him, filling him back up after he had done his best to shake it out before. He noticed Tré stealing little glances at him out of the corner of his eye and he furrowed his brow in response, arching one as he saw the smile flit onto Tré’s lips. 

“That was the third time Jason and I played,” Tré stated simply, without any additional preamble. “It was a,” he looked down in thought his eyebrows furrowing before he remembered and continued, “a dungeon in Cleveland. Fucking Cleveland,” he added, with a shake of his head in surprise. He gave a sheepish grin when he saw the confused expression on Mike’s face. “It’s the ones you don’t expect. So, the kid filming got kicked out, but we let him keep the file since he really didn’t see all that much and he was scared. If he had hidden the phone for another five to ten minutes...” A glance out the window as the vehicle began to slow and Tré snickered, “that would have been fun but, letting him keep it was a bad idea, maybe, if it’s causing you all this strife.” 

Mike could feel a glint of wicked intent behind that statement and he decided it was best to just keep his mouth shut. 

The car pulled up to the curb and both men waited until the driver waved them out. The building was nondescript; Mike wasn’t expecting a big sign that said ‘dungeon’, but the place could have been any commercial office space without seeming out of place. Tré left Mike staring from the sidewalk for a few steps before he turned and beckoned him forward. This time the grin on his features was big, like the reaction of a child given a new toy to play with. Which wasn’t exactly untrue.

“Please keep up Mr. Dirnt,” Tré drawled, holding open the door for him. “I don’t want to have to start punishing you before we even begin.” 

Mike easily caught up with his long legs and still felt at ease even when he saw the smile on Tré’s face. The word punishments, spoken in a poor attempt at a Bond villain accent, however made the butterflies in his stomach dance. He passed by the other man as he held open the door and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting inside. Tré was only a step behind him as he shut and secured the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Mike didn’t know exactly what he expected to see inside the commercial space. If he hadn’t seen the security cameras just outside the door he might have assumed they were at the wrong place. Instead they entered and Tré led the way, navigating the halls that led them behind a closed for the day nail salon and out of earshot of a three story walkup. Tré entered a code from his phone into the security panel of a big, solid door and with a reassuring buzz and a click, once again played the gentleman holding open the door and ushered Mike inside. 

“I thought you hadn’t been here before?” Mike asked as Tré turned on a couple of lights by the door and slipped off his coat. The man seemed to know where everything was. 

The other man’s voice was light and he gave a little shrug. “I haven’t, the owner sent me an email with instructions. They don’t tend to let people in without staff here, but I sweet talked our way in. A couple of tickets helped sweeten the deal. I’ll introduce you to her at the next concert. She’s great.” Tré held out his hands and after a moment’s hesitation Mike shrugged off his coat and handed it to him to be hung up. 

Mike stood with his hands in his pockets, watching Tré dig in a cabinet. The butterflies in his stomach were in full on flutter and the anxiety of what was to come rising in his throat. He still got nervous before every show, that was natural he supposed; this was something else entirely. Even the cooling adrenaline from their sold out, exhilarating show didn’t help. He hadn’t felt like this since his first time with Billie, even with the pot and the alcohol he had felt his skin tremble at the first touch from the singer. Now he stood wondering what would happen next? What would happen after that? He followed Tré through to the next room, noting the few items that Tré stashed on a table just inside the door that swung shut behind them. 

The lights were at half power, casting shadows in the corners of the room and behind the padded ‘X’ next to one wall. Mike took in a breath when he saw it, remembering the video and Jason strapped to it shirtless. To be immobilized like that with his back to the world and at the mercy of whoever had put him there. He had strapped one of the techs on something like it last time, but hadn’t considered what it would feel like to be the one restrained and at someone else’s mercy. 

“Mikey, you ok?” 

Tré’s voice and a gentle hand on his shoulder stirred Mike’s attention and directed it back to the present. He coughed out a laugh. “Sorry man, million miles away.” He shook his head and sighed. “Bit overwhelmed, if I’m honest.” He had been staring at a random point on the wall and slowly he let his gaze drift back to Tré where he was looking slightly concerned, but standing and waiting patiently. More patiently than Mike had seen him in quite some time.

“This is all you, man.” Tré began as he leaned against the table with his supplies. “There’s a couple things I want to try out, but this is supposed to be fun. If you’re gonna have a panic attack or hate me forever then we can go. No big deal.”

Mike was being offered an out, which sounded suspiciously like giving up and not nearly as much fun as what he had seen in those snippets of video from, what he now knew was a dungeon in Cleveland. He genuinely didn’t want to go. “I’m fine, just nerves, I think? I’m an amateur at all of this. The most I’ve ever done is that dungeon in LA that Fat Mike brought us to.” He gestured to indicate the room around them with a nervous chuckle. “This is all new, so just please start slow.” 

“Okie dokie.” Tré said amiably. “We won’t do anything too crazy. If you want to stop, say stop. If you need me to slow down, say slow down. Comprende?” 

Mike nodded, but he couldn’t help but be confused. “Isn’t there some red, yellow, green scheme for this? What about a safeword?” 

The shorter man just smiled gently. “You’re new at this. If you say stop, we stop. Unless you really want to use colours, we’ll just stick to words meaning words.”

“Words are fine.” Mike answered, “let’s just get on with it, before I turn yellow.” This time he chuckled and while Tré smiled he didn’t laugh as he turned away to address the items he had brought in. 

The bassist tapped a foot quietly, staring at Tré’s back as he did whatever it was that he was doing. “Ok, maybe I have a couple questions,” Mike said and Tré turned back without a huff or a sigh just the same pleasant smile on his face. ”Do I call you master or… I don’t think I can manage that?” 

“Can you manage calling me, sir?” 

“Sure,” that was easy enough Mike thought in response. Second question. “Are you planning on sex?” 

Tré’s smile broadened, that was the Tré he knew, and he gave an easy shrug. “I never plan on sex on a first date, but it happens. We don’t have to.” He wiggled his eyebrows before going serious again. “I don’t fuck Jason if you’re wondering.” 

Mike was indeed wondering, had been wondering since he had seen the video. “So that video doesn’t end with you fucking him?” He asked, finally feeling his nerves starting to settle a little as his curiosity rose. The fact this was Tré, his Tré, that set little pranks and had been there for him and Billie through thick and thin was starting to gel with what Mike wanted him to be. He was starting to see that confidence in his eyes and posture. 

The drummer looked affronted. “Me? In a public dungeon? Fuck no. I got a blowjob though, as a thank you just after the video shut off. Getting your cock sucked is preferable to a card any day of the week.” He changed gears, his voice going from instructional to something softer, but it worked and grabbed Mike’s attention. “How about we need to set limits, tell me where yours are and we’ll get on with the good stuff.”


	9. Chapter 9

Good stuff? He hadn’t thought of good stuff. What did he want? His brain filled in the gaps, remembering Jason on his knees in front of Tré’s unzipped fly. Him in that same position, but this time in private and without the camera. He didn’t know why his mind kept coming back to that one posture, but he wanted it. He shoved it away, focusing on the actual Tré standing in front of him wanting his attention. “No fucking. Blowjobs are fine.” The words came out in a rush as if he was worried that if he stopped talking he wouldn’t start again. “I’ll stop things if I need to, but otherwise it’s up to you. Please, I-I,” he felt his breath catch and cleared his throat to keep talking. “I want to be like Jason was in that video… he looked so…” he didn’t know how to finish that sentence so he started again. “I don’t want to be in control.” I want you to be in control Tré, he thought to himself, I couldn’t put Billie in this situation. The exhilaration that accompanied that thought and his words surprised him. Admitting that he wanted that and getting those feelings out into the open was such a relief. “Sir.” The word tumbled out as an afterthought and it surprised Mike at how right it sounded. It didn’t sound like play acting like he expected. 

“Good. I can work with that.” Tré said, he didn’t address the ‘sir’ as he walked around Mike and stopped just on the other side of him, silently waiting for eye contact before pointing to a space near the padded ‘X’. “Shirt and shoes off, pants off only if you’re wearing underwear under them. I don’t want to see your dick and get distracted.”

The words were delivered dryly, in that flat way Tré could make his voice go when he wanted to. Mike hesitated for only a second, expecting something more before he started to undress. He chose then to remember Billie’s comment about not being allowed to come and hoped it wasn’t true. Why did he think about that now? It was such an early stage in the game to even be thinking those things! He deposited his shirts on top of his pants and shoes, suddenly glad he had been wearing clothes that wouldn’t wrinkle if left on the floor. Part of him was keenly aware that Tré was still fully clothed and watching him. No, examining him with his eyes. 

“Good,” Tré said curtly when Mike was finished and Mike smiled at the word, now more aware of the other man’s eyes tracing over him. It was flattering, that was the reason his skin felt warmer even in the slightly warm room, blue eyes wandered over slightly tanned and tattooed skin. “Look at you, smiling already, you’re easy to please,” Tré teased lightly. “You’re far too tall, how’s about you kneel down for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Again, the words just slipped out with a grin and his knees hitting the floor didn’t make him feel ashamed. He didn’t feel humiliated or small like he thought he would. It was strange, because he expected commands and instead he was being given suggestions to follow. Wasn’t Tré supposed to… command him? This way did make following the directions more palatable for someone not used to following directions. When he did as he was told he found himself smiling like it was an ongoing joke, returning the small smirk on Tré’s features. 

“I like how quick you are, keep that up,” the drummer praised and then took a few steps forward to run a hand through Mike’s hair in reward. His fingertips ran across Mike’s scalp before changing to dragging his nails across the same space. The change in sensation made a shiver slink under his skin, working its way through him. 

In intimate situations Mike enjoyed a hand in his hair or fingernails dragged over his skin so he didn’t even realize he was leaning against Tré’s palm and arching up into his touch until he heard a little chuckle and felt the hand pull away. Mike was embarrassed to find he had to keep himself from whining at the loss of contact and glanced up at Tré with a questioning look on his face. 

“I’m testing the waters,” Tré said before Mike could ask. “It’s been a long time since the sleeping bag in San Diego and I want to get a feel for things.” He ran a calloused hand down Mike’s sideburn and then jaw, ending with a swipe of his thumb over his bottom lip. When his finger was gone Mike’s tongue peeked out to lick the now dry flesh and taste for anything left behind. The motion was a reflex, the bassist didn’t like dry lips and the dungeon’s air was dry. Tré repeated the swipe across his bottom lip and when the same result occurred Mike heard a pleased little noise from Tré above him. 

That’s when the idea occurred to Mike to pre-empt the finger swipe, grazing it with a wet stripe as it went by with the tip of his tongue and feeling the little scars and calluses on the flesh. The thumb was warm and when his tongue touched Tré’s flesh it stopped moving. Mike didn’t stop to think whether this was right or wrong, he just knew what he wanted and he dared to put his tongue out a little more, feeling the whorls of the fingerprint with a meatier part of his tongue than just the tip. 

He felt like a cross between an eager to please lover and a dog being fed scraps under the table excited for the smallest morsels of food and attention. Right now the only attention Tré was giving him was his thumb pressing against his lip, but he wanted that attention. It was the same kind of attention he got being on stage with all those eyes on him. A hum of approval escaped from the man above him and Tré’s thumb slipped a little further past his lips resting on his front teeth and giving his tongue so much more access than he had only a moment before. Yes, he wanted that. Even as he moved his tongue to take the digit into his mouth completely, a part of him asked why he was doing this. It reminded him how ridiculous this all was. He shoved that voice aside, he was going to keep an open mind. 

“Suck.” The word seemed loud in the otherwise silent room, a definite command rather than a suggestion even if it was said quietly to the man on his knees. Mike grinned at the corners of his mouth, taking the thumb in as he planned to do and washing over it with his tongue

A hand tangled in his hair suddenly twisted and pulled up and bringing with it an eye-watering pain stabbing into his scalp. Mike twisted his head up to look at Tré, the ‘what the fuck’ evident in his eyes as he mumbled it around the thumb and when it dropped out of his mouth to enable him to speak properly. “That fucking hurt!”

If Tré felt bad about hurting him he didn’t show it. “Good.” He said, tightening his grip in the hair and making Mike wince again. “I said suck, not play with it.” This brain quickly noted that if he was genuinely mad his voice didn’t show it, he was just giving clarification. “Try again.” 

Mike had a retort prepared, but let it go when the hand loosened its grip in his hair and the stabbing pain receded into nothing. He took the thumb back into his mouth, foregoing what he wanted to do (and what he thought would feel way better) and instead focused on sucking the digit. The little barely audible murmurs above him egged him on, inviting him to change angles and occasionally press a rough spot of his tongue on the flesh as a different sensation to see if he could make a new sound. 

Tré pulled his thumb away and Mike looked up when he felt the hand sweep across his scalp. This time it was gentle, massaging the skin and gently running nails over his head. It was night and day and Mike didn’t know what to think.

“If I tell you to do something Mike, do that. If you don’t know what I mean than ask me to explain, don’t guess or improvise.” Mike had looked up at the sound of his name and he gave a little nod of understanding. Tré continued keeping a composed expression, “I know your tongue is good, I wanted to see how good you were at sucking.” 

A rush went through him when the meaning of that statement hit him. it was anticipation and worry and excitement and a bunch of emotions all melded together. It had been how many years since he had done that? It was before Brittney he knew that much. Something inside him made him glance up and ask, a twinkle in his eye, “how did I do then, sir?” 

Tré laughed, the sound filling Mike’s heart as it did anytime one of his friends laughed because of something he said. “Passing grade, but we’ll see how you do on the exam.” He ruffled Mike’s hair and the bassist felt pleased with what he said and the result even as he shifted slightly on his knees to lessen the pressure on either one of them. Now that was all he could think of and Tré was practically groin level with Mike’s eyes. 

The other man seemed to know that however and tugged on Mike’s shoulder with a short, “up” for instruction. He helped Mike stand and led him to the padded X that was free-standing, pausing for a moment before it to let Mike just take it in. “This is the same thing Jason was on, once you’re bound to it you’re not wiggling out of it.” Tré voice was soft next to Mike and he knew if they were of similar height Tré would be whispering in his ear. He could feel himself getting hard just standing there in front of it and he was glad he was wearing boxers. 

Tré gave him a little push towards it in the middle of his back and Mike stepped up to it, letting the shorter man secure his wrists in cuffs to the padded frame. His ankles were left free braced next to the lower posts and he faced further into the darkened room.


	10. Chapter 10

“We’ll start slow, if you like something I want you to tell me. These are new...” Tré said and Mike nodded remembered his words from earlier. He had a fairly high pain tolerance even when he was completely sober, but he wasn’t sure how that would translate when he couldn’t see what was about to happen. Tré also had powerful arms. 

The first slap was more of a thud and the long, flowy tresses of the flogger didn’t hurt at all. There wasn’t much weight behind the swing and when it fell it caressed more than struck. It warmed where it touched and Mike was rather impressed as Tré’s ability to set it down on the same place over and over again near his shoulders. It was like a firm massage and when the thumps landed in a quicker succession Mike felt himself relaxing into it. His skin was beginning to heat up where the tresses hit and he sighed as it seemed to smooth the muscle in his shoulders. “I like that… sir,” Mike said straying before finishing the words. He wished he could ask for it faster and harder, but that hadn’t been given as an option.

“Good.” Came the short, but not curt response and Mike let his eyes close as the flogger thump-thumped against him. There was a beat there, leave it to Tré to find a rhythm even in this kind of thing and Mike promised himself that he would remember it for the next time they practiced and try to build a complimentary bass line from it. 

There was a pause and Mike was tempted to look back and see why Tré had stopped, but the sensations began again, this time it was less relaxing. It stung, making his back jerk and cringe at the feeling of the knotted tresses hitting his skin. It was being thrown harder and Mike shivered as the air in the room seemed to rub where the flogger hit. His skin was warm now and felt red and tender making him gasp when it was struck multiple times in quick succession. Tré swooped it lower, avoiding his sides and focusing on his cloth covered ass. 

With the sensation away from his shoulders he let out a sigh, feeling that same surge of adrenaline that made him breathless that his tattoos had brought him. 

“How does that feel?” Tré asked even as he swung and hit the curve of his ass far too easily.

“Interesting,” Mike replied and then added, “sir. Kind of, a kind of rush.” 

Tré sounded like he nodded, “time to change it up then.” 

A few more swings of the stingy flogger and then it stopped, giving Mike a moment to stretch his shoulders and take in a few long, slow breaths. His shoulders were burning like they did after a workout and the few strokes he had taken on his ass had only made it tingle. He knew his throws hadn’t been as precisely placed when the whole band had played in that dungeon, but the flogger has been soft and he was glad that he hadn’t been causing too much pain into his hapless subject. It was amazing how something that looked so intense could feel almost like a massage when it was done the right way. His muscles felt looser and his head was a little foggy, but it felt nice all things considered. He thought back to the video, willingly this time instead of unbidden and remembered Jason secured like he was on the frame and Tré using a…

The mental image and reality melded together right in front of Mike’s eyes, the only difference being the shirt and the hair. Tré stood behind the frame so Mike could see him, a crop in his hand gently resting up on his shoulder. Mike visibly swallowed and he wasn’t sure whether it was out of fear, nerves, lust or something else entirely, but he also shivered. His mouth was dry and the grin on Tré’s face did nothing to help with it. 

“How’s your ass feel Mike?” Tré asked, using the crop to gently trace down his neck and what was visible of his chest around the X-frame. 

“Tingling, but it doesn’t hurt, sir...” Mike said, leaning his head to the left as the crop traced up the muscles and ligaments in his neck. “I have the feeling it’s going to…”

“That’s the plan!” Tré said rather enthusiastically as he walked around him to stand behind Mike,“no worries though, it’s not like you need to sit down for a while, right? Jason at least has to sit to play keys...”

Mike shivered again and felt goosebumps on his arms despite the warm ambient temperature of the room. The gentle press and scratch of the leather crop teasing across his skin, first down his back and then across the back of his thighs only heightened the anticipation. When the first strike cut across his ass he jumped as much as his bonds would allow. It hurt as much as was expected, but each strike was unexpected. The sting remained, but warmth blossomed behind it and Mike released a breath he had drawn in at the feeling sound. 

“That’s one.” Tré’s voice was low, almost sultry and Mike took another breath in and then released it quietly. He didn’t have to count the strokes apparently or Tré would have said, Mike had read that was a thing, but Tré would have to remind him to keep breathing. 

Five strokes later he had determined that although the crop hurt, he wasn’t in agony and he was starting to think maybe it wasn’t that bad. Of course, that’s when Tré slipped two fingers into the elastic waistband of the boxers and gently tugged them down to expose the other man’s ass. The “distracting” dick, mentioned earlier in the evening was pressed into the X and hidden away. Mike hadn’t forgotten about it though, he couldn’t it was aching. 

“Five more without the safety net?”

Mike nodded with his head hanging down and stared at the floor. He tensed but Tré didn’t start, instead he cleared his throat. It was as though he was expecting something. The sudden sound of a snap and then a line of sharp heat and pain jolted Mike forward. He swore and felt the warm touch of Tré’s fingers tracing the new welt and gently pushing it to elicit a hiss from the bassist. 

“Let’s try this again,” Tré said smoothly, now that Mike was paying attention. “Five more without the safety net?” 

“Yes sir.” Mike’s response came out through gritted teeth, the realization of his mistake occurring sometime after crop strike. Mike knew better than to ask why it was five and not four, it seemed like simple math, then the next strike came down and he jumped again. 

By the second to last swing of the crop Mike had tears in his eyes and he had already gasped out a sob once because of the pain digging into his skin. It felt like he had been cut open a few times on each ass cheek and lava poured into the wound, then repeated. 

By the last swing there were tears on his cheeks that were running down his face and dripping onto the leather. He gasped as the last swing fell, his ass reduced to what he was sure looked like hamburger meat, but was in reality red carefully placed parallel lines. It seemed to glow with a deep heat though and while Mike knew it hurt, he liked the way it hurt. He was about to say something to that effect to Tré when he walked over, but his words stopped with a shake of the drummers head as his boxers were pulled up. Next the wrist cuffs were unbuckled and taken away, then he was being gently guided to face where they had started, his back (and ass) against the padded X. 

Tré pressed a finger against his chest and Mike let out a low hiss becoming something almost akin to a growl. His ass settled against the unyielding leather and it pressed against the sore spots. It hurt! Fuck it hurt. However, he remembered Jason in this spot and Tré doing the exact same thing to him on camera. A chill went down his spine. Tré had been replicating his time with Jason for Mike’s benefit and he could feel a smile tracing over his features. 

“Hurts so good?” Tré asked, his tracing finger becoming a palm swept slowly, firmly down his chest between his pecs. The welts on his ass sang and Mike grunted and nodded in reply. “That’s good. I didn’t have my favourite crop with me, but that one’s not bad though - a little snappier and with a bit more of a bend.”

Mike couldn’t appreciate the words coming out of his friend’s mouth, he knew nothing about crops or anything like that, but he knew what he felt. “Felt good to me,” he said and Tré grinned. 

“That’s what matters Mikey,” was the shorter man’s response and he scratched gently down the tanned flesh in front of him, pausing to wipe the tears off the other man’s cheeks. He smiled when Mike groaned and then moaned softly. “Now time to listen up.” The words pried Mike’s attention away from the sensations he was feeling (ass, chest, head, oh fuck he was hard) and back to his bandmate. 

Their eyes met and when Tré was sure he was listening he spoke. “You wanted to do what Jason and I did that night, right?” Mike nodded. “Jason didn’t want to come, I thought you’d want to know that before you got too deep, he specifically asked before the scene not to let him come. Denial’s not just a river in Egypt.” He smirked at his joke, before continuing a little more seriously. “So, Mike, the question is do you want to go down that river or do you want to come?”


	11. Chapter 11

“Uh,” Mike immediately started to answer and then closed his mouth and properly thought. His balls were starting to hurt, demanding his attention and his cock was pressed up against the fabric of his boxers enough that he knew some of it was visible. If he wanted to do exactly what had set him down this path then that meant sticking it out until the end, regardless of the torture that might lead him through. And if his dreams and thoughts over the last few days and shows were anything to go by that’s what he wanted. “The river it is.” Tré nodded, although his expression wasn’t nearly as serious as it had been before, it was almost playful. 

Their eyes met and Mike smirked at the thought of Britt watching all this, her words from the previous night flitting through his mind. “I guess we’re right back on script,” Mike said remembering the padded X followed by Jason dropping to his knees. He started to dip down, but Tré put a hand to his chest and stopped him, pushing him back against the padded leather. 

“Let’s go off-script a little,” Tré said with a broad (and slightly unnerving) grin. He slowly buckled the restraints back on Mike’s wrists deliberately giving the other man time to protest. When Mike didn’t protest the drummer let his fingertips trail down his chest pushing just enough to press Mike’s well-welted ass against the fabric. 

He hissed and then sighed as the fingertips trailed lower and lower. He canted his hips forward wanting just a little more as he gently pressed against his cloth covered erection. Tré’s eyes were on his crotch and Mike exhaled, the sound turning into a hum as the fingers traced up and pulled the waistband down. Mike pulled against the wrist restraints and when they held felt his arousal grow. If Tré was going to jerk him off, which seemed likely, he… his thought short circuited as the calloused fingers wrapped around his cock and started to push and pull along the shaft. It was tougher than he was used to, but it felt amazing, maybe because of that. 

“Feel’s nice, Mike?” 

He nodded, hissing as he accidentally let his ass push back into the leather support. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Tell me when you’re going to come.” Tré said, his other hand reaching down to cup and then gently pull Mike’s testicles away from his body. He leaned closer and Mike’s breath stuttered as discomfort and then pleasure rolled through him. “You won’t like being punished for coming...” 

“Ahhh,” the sound spilled out softly and he shook his head. “No sir, I won’t.” The warm, strong hand wrapped around his cock felt amazing and the little shocks of pain when the welts on his ass would hurt added to it. He could already feel the heat coiling inside him. He wasn’t going to last long. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him, building closer and closer to sweet release. He was only a few pulls away, embarrassingly quickly if he was honest, when he gasped and said, “I’m going to come, uhh sir!”

Tré lazily stopped, wrapping his fingers around into a makeshift cock ring as Mike put his head back, grit his teeth and tried not to scream. He was so close! A breath on the head of his cock would be enough to undo him. He panted and tried not to snap at Tré who looked very pleased with himself. 

“Nice job, I’m pretty impressed. I was expecting to have to punish you for that.” Tré said smiling and tracing a finger along Mike’s chin. He took a step forward and was suddenly close enough for Mike to see his pupils change as Mike took that finger into his mouth and sucked it hard. His own need and desire may have been prevented from exploding from Mike, but it only ramped up his need to please. “Oh, trying to get a favour?”

The bassist shook his head, his tongue running down the side of Tré’s finger. Never. Well, maybe he was just a little. 

“Liar,” Tré said with a soft laugh. “If you had the opportunity to come right now you’d do almost anything, even though this is your choice.” Tré reached down to firmly grasp Mike’s balls massaging them with one hand while he stared at Mike who moaned in response. “It’s almost a shame you said no fucking,” he said tilting his head slightly, “it would be great to feel you trying not to come with me in your ass while I kneaded those crop stripes.”

He had only just agreed to it and already he was regretting that choice. Why did Jason come to Tré with that request. The hand on his balls made that warmth creep a little higher and remembering the promise of punishment he grunted out a “gonna come” in response. The hand was gone and Mike missed it and it’s maddening touch almost immediately. The feeling of being close and on edge was awful and wonderful at the same time. He kept reminding himself that he wasn’t a submissive person, but giving up that choice did make everything hotter. When he did finally come later tonight in his hotel room it was going to spectacular. 

“If we had an ongoing thing I’d tell you you weren’t allowed to jerk off when you got back to the hotel,” Tré said almost reading Mike’s mind. “But since that’s not on the table I’ll just highly recommend it to Britt.”


	12. Chapter 12

Mike whimpered. The sound surprised him and it seemed to surprise Tré even if he covered the reaction rather quickly. If Britt asked him to never come again he knew he’d try (and fail) to do that, Tré teaming up with her was evil. Still a little piece of him loved the idea of his wife having that control. 

Tré’s drying finger very gently stroked along the side of Mike’s cock and when it took a couple of drags to get a visible reaction he tsked. “Not quite sensitive enough,” he said his face twisted in thought. When an idea apparently came, Tré unbuckled the wrist restraints and Mike started to get worried. It eased a little when Tré stepped back and pointed to the spot in front of him leading to Mike folding down to his knees and looking up aware now more than ever of the bulge in the leather pants the other man was wearing. The only thing he was more aware of was the bulge above his own boxers which were still pulled down below his balls and propping up his erection. His posture kneeling on the floor reminded him of his arousal and he wondered if that was part of the plan as he unbuttoned and pulled Tré’s dick free of the pants and underwear. His breath ghosted over the head and Mike felt the shiver run through Tré. Fuck, that was way more erotic than it ought to be. 

Somehow he waited until Tré gave him permission, at this point their time together would be filling in the ending the video had cut off. He swallowed Tré down, the tang of salty sweat and musk from being in tight pants taking him momentarily by surprise. The hands in his hair encouraged him gently tugging and scratching in silent reward for each flick of his tongue and pressure from his lips. His hands had been batted away left to do nothing while slowly Tré started to thrust in and out. It was never harsh or aggressive, but it made Mike feel… he wasn’t sure of the exact emotion. Used was too harsh but submissive didn’t feel right either. 

The throbbing in his dick between his legs never went away, even when his attention was focused on the other man and he didn’t even realize he had wrapped one of his own hands around it gently stroking until Tré twisted a hand in his hair pulling it up and making eye contact while Mike attempted to keep sucking. “Don’t you dare come. I will beat your ass.”

The words were low and menacing, but they were a promise and they gave Mike reason to stop even as he danced oh so very close to the edge. He would have grit his teeth from the frustration if not for the organ in his mouth and instead he muffled a shout around it. Tré was panting above him and he turned his attention back to what he was doing.

The drummer came undone a few moments after that groaning as he pulled out of Mike’s mouth and shot onto Mike’s chest, a courteous action in The bassists mind compared to the alternatives. As Tré got his breath back Mike wiped off his chest with a towel sneaking a feel of the welts on his ass. They hurt so much more than he thought they would for five fairly short lines. Still they buzzed with pain when he pressed them, a nice little reminder of the evening. He’d have to wait a day or so for the bruising he assumed he would have. 

“I almost feel bad for leaving you so needy,” Tré said as he tossed Mike’s clothes over to him. “But, I bet you won’t last an hour after we get back to the hotel before you get yourself off.” Tré said it so simply, the words seeming to end the scene or whatever this had been and wiped himself off with the clean towel Mike handed him.

Mike laughed as he fought to adjust himself enough to button up the snug jeans. They had clearly been the wrong choice of attire. “I’m not an animal Tré, I could probably wait a couple of days.”

“Bet you can’t. Bet you won’t last a full day.” The drummer said easily. 

“Fine, I’ll take that bet, what are the stakes?” 

“I win and you’re my servant for the evening in full view of the rest of the band. I lose and I… what would you like?”

Mike laughed as the realization dawned on him. “Wait, I get it now, motherfucker, this was the bet Jason lost.”

Tré didn’t admit it in so many words, but the raised eyebrows and flash of a smile was confirmation enough. He held up three fingers to indicate that it wasn’t the first loss either for the musician. “Are you sure you want to take the bet?”

“Yup,” Mike said as he pulled on his outer shirt, “I win you’re the servant.”

They shook hands to seal the deal and Tré called the driver. 

* * *

The next day when Tré was delivering a drink to Billie so Mike didn’t have to get up and Mike caught Jason’s knowing grin he couldn’t help but smile back. 

Mike knew Tré would get his revenge though, when they were finished the tour the drummer had agreed to set up a weekend for Mike and Britt’s anniversary at a private space outside of Oakland. He had also promised to show Britt how to do all the good stuff; she was thrilled. He winced when he adjusted in his seat and the smile Tré gave him reassured him that it would hurt again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, thanks for reading folks and feedback is always encouraged. I don't know where this came from, but after months of picking away at it I'm happy it's done.


End file.
